


it's dark enough to dance

by twelvetrop



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Jake and Amy are both cops, One Shot, Sorry if this is bad, i just love these dorks too much okay, oh no they're in love and they're stupid what can you do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 04:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20058118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelvetrop/pseuds/twelvetrop
Summary: Gas stations really aren't the most romantic places on earth, but, sometimes, getting stuck together leads to something.orAmy Santiago has a flat tire in a random gas station, and Jake Peralta happens to come by the scene.





	it's dark enough to dance

**Author's Note:**

> the song in the title is "Star Treatment" by Arctic Monkeys

The highway was dark, only a single car illuminating the road ahead. From the driver’s seat, trees blurred by in the edges of their vision, sometimes a blotch of green and brown making its way onto the radius of the lights, like arms trying to hang on to air. The white dashes went by so quickly that it almost seemed like the road was divided into three lanes of darkness.

Jake was at the wheel, soaking in all that he could from the drive. It was all he could do, really, since he had forgotten to connect his phone to the car stereo and was stuck listening to the same ten tracks on repeat from the radio station. And he was kind of feeling tired.

Okay, so maybe going to drop a perp out at 8 PM probably wasn’t the smartest idea on his part, but he didn’t exactly have anything better to do. He thought he’d be done by ten and happily sleep depriving himself at home by midnight.

But it was nearly 3 AM, the roads were devoid of life and, if he didn’t rest soon, he might find himself tangled in the metal railing next to him.

“Okay brain.” He said out loud, as a way to keep himself awake. “I don’t need graphic images of my body lying on the road.”

He’d seen several car accidents over the years – the nature of his job, he supposed. As any city, it had its fair share of accidents, and he had to see some of the results from those.

His mind snapped back from those thoughts when the radio came to life with the voice of a person that wasn’t singing.

“Alright listeners, it is now three AM.” It said.

Jake groaned and hit his head on the steering wheel. “Great, I reached the witching hour.”

“As such, it is time to change our programming. Enjoy the next few hours of EDM.” The voice continued, ignoring him completely.

He swore he heard the speakers from his car complain. It was like they were saying “EDM? Really? Isn’t it a bit too late for that?” to which Jake immediately replied that being too late was exactly the time to play EDM.

When the song started to get too loud for his taste (or even before it got loud), Jake glanced at the radio and turned the volume down. When he looked back to focus on the road, a sign appeared:

**Rest Stop**

**15 miles away**

He yelled in relief, and a sigh escaped his lips. He was close to getting some sleep. Or maybe some coffee. The coffee would probably feel better than sleep. It’s not like he’d sleep much anyway.

Captain Holt was undoubtedly going to give him hell for being so late to work the next day, (or was it today?) but it wouldn’t be the first time he had done something like that, so he wasn’t worried. He _was_ worried, however, about getting desk duty for the week (or worse, a month), which was the vilest thing imaginable.

As the car kept speeding towards the rest stop, Jake’s mind didn’t really stop thinking about the precinct.

* * *

Amy looked at the street lamps that riddled the tiny rest stop and closed her eyes. She sighed, then kicked her flat tire.

“Shit!” She yelled, half out of pain and half out of frustration.

As she set one foot on the ground, she felt the heel give in and she almost twisted her ankle right then and there. She looked at broken shoe and realised her patience had reached critical levels. Thankfully, she had some spare sneakers in her trunk, but they didn’t really fit with her pantsuit (neon blue didn’t really fit with anything unless you were jogging).

Amy opened the trunk and, thankfully, her emergency backpack was still there. This include the so-called emergency sneakers, some socks (because she never knew if she was going to be freezing), a first aid kit and some other random assortments. ‘You could never be too prepared’ was her motto, and that backpack showed it.

After putting on her shoes, she sat in the trunk, watching the starless sky. She almost felt at peace there, in the middle of nowhere, trying to get back home after catching an idiot that belonged upstate.

“God damn it!” In a fit of rage, she threw her heels as far as she could down the road.

As luck would have it, a car came in out of nowhere, and her shoes hit the windshield. The person inside hit the brakes and swerved a little, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

The person left the car haphazardly parked in the middle of the road, opened the door and stepped out of the car.

“What the hell, man?” The person, which she now saw was a man, had his arms outstretched. Amy couldn’t really tell much more, since he was against the light.

“I’m sorry!” She yelled back. “I’m so sorry!”

The man dropped his arms and approached her. Out of instinct, Amy placed her hand on her hip, close to where she had her gun strapped.

As he got closer, she began analysing the man: taller than her, seemed to be in his thirties, leather jacket with a flannel shirt underneath, short curly brown hair, brown eyes, a necklace around his neck that led to a police badge,…

Wait, a badge?

“Is that a fake badge hanging off your neck?” Amy couldn’t help but ask.

“Nope, it’s real.” He smirked. “And I’m a police officer. Well, detective, really.” He waved his hands in the air. “No big deal.”

“NYPD, huh?” She looked closer at his badge. “You’re a bit far from home.”

“Yeah, it’s been a crazy day. But hey, you have a cop next to you.” He stood straight. “You’re safe with me ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes and slid her jacket to the side, letting her own badge glisten in the artificial lights. “Yeah, I sure do!”

“You’re from the NYPD too?” He looked incredulous.

She nodded. “Detective Santiago. I’m from the 8-4.” She stretched her hand.

“I’m Detective Peralta. From the 9-9.”

They shook hands.

“Great, now that we’re done introducing ourselves.” She pointed to his car. “How about you park your car and we, uhm, ‘assess’ the damage.”

He slapped a hand on his forehead. “I nearly forgot!”

He ran back to his car and parked it right next to hers, killing the engine and turning off the lights. Amy shut her trunk and walked to the front of his car as Peralta was getting out of his vehicle.

“Of all the places to park, you parked right next to me?” She asked.

“This isn’t urinal rules.” He said, as if it was an answer.

She shook her head, deciding not to pursue the matter. “Well, your windshield doesn’t seem damaged.”

“Dude, I’m not a civilian. Talk normally.”

This Peralta guy was really starting to get on her nerves. “I _am_ talking normally.”

“_That’s_ how you normally talk?”

She sighed. “Could you just help me find my heels?”

Peralta looked at her and shrugged. “Fine.”

They searched for what felt like a long time, first near where the she had thrown the shoes, then spreading themselves out over the small area of the gas station. Peralta found one in a pair of bushes, a couple of feet away from the collision. He frowned when he found them, telling Amy that the heel was broken. She waved it off, claiming that that’s why she had thrown them.

She found the second shoe on top of one of the fuel stations, which made her laugh. Peralta looked at Amy, grasping onto her knees and laughing without a care in the world. He smiled at the sight and stood by her.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, a bit concerned.

She simply pointed to where the shoe was, and he started laughing alongside her. Amy grabbed onto him for balance, and soon they were grabbing each other’s shoulders like they had known each other for years.

She wiped a few tears from her eyes. “God, I needed that.”

“You looked like you did.” Peralta suddenly yawned. “But I don’t know about you, I need a cup of coffee.”

She nodded before adding. “Thanks, Peralta.”

He gave her a grin. “Hey, call me Jake.”

She smiled back. “I’m Amy.”

-

The gas station had a store in its small perimeter, and the clerk had watched (and recorded bits of it, to show to their friends later) the two cops searching for Amy’s heels.

Jake mocked her relentlessly on her blue jogging shoes, not caring when she had rolled her eyes at least five times every minute or so.

“You know, if you keep rolling your eyes like that, they’ll pop from their sockets.” He said.

She rolled her eyes again. “That’s an urban legend.”

“It’s not!” He exclaimed. “It happened to someone I know!”

“A cousin of a friend of a friend?” She crossed her arms near the automatic doors of the store.

“Actually, it was an uncle.” Jake corrected her, proudly.

Amy rolled her eyes again. “All right, Jake.”

She stepped into the store, and he followed suit. It was a small store, a square that couldn’t have been more than thirty feet wide. Three aisles dotted the place, filled with all random assortments of things, from chips and red vines to CD’s and magazines. Jake gave Amy five bucks and ran to one of the aisles to admire the collection of music.

She asked the clerk for the coffees, and stretched her back, hearing some bones pop with the release of tension. Sighing with relief, she rubbed her eyes and undid her ponytail, letting her hair fall on her shoulders.

When she joined him, Jake looked a bit taken aback.

“What?” She asked.

“I… uh… hair.” He blurted out.

“Hair?” She her hand through hers. “Oh, my hair is down?”

“Yeah! I got used to seeing you with a ponytail and thought you had shorter hair than me.” He mocked.

Amy rolled her eyes and handed him his coffee. He took it gladly, trying to drink it fast, only to open his mouth and waving his hands to attempt to get cool air into his mouth.

“Hot! Hot!” He yelled.

She raised an eyebrow and sipped her coffee. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know! Maybe not _this _hot!”

“All right then…” She started. “What brought you here so late, anyway?”

“Oh, I was bringing a perp upstate.” He said, holding on to his tongue. “Someone messed up the paperwork, though, and I was stuck there for hours.”

She grimaced at his behaviour. “Hey, same here! I think the servers crashed or something, that’s why it took so long to process perps.”

“That makes sense.” Jake was no longer grabbing his tongue.

A bit of an awkward silence rose, Jake holding on to a CD she couldn’t quite recognize.

“Who’s that?” She pointed to it, trying to break the silence.

“Oh, uhm…” He looked at the cover. “_Fleetwood Mac_?”

“Did you not know what CD you were holding?”

“I did know, I’m just surprised! I barely see _Fleetwood Mac _CD’s this cheap.”

She looked at the price. “Five bucks? Dude, that’s a bargain. Buy it.”

He gave her a smile. “I think I will!”

As he walked to the register, Amy left the shop altogether and just sat in the hood of her car, which unfortunately brought to mind that she had, in fact, a flat tire. The store didn’t sell any spares (which she thought was kind of odd, since she had seen a lot of car things in one of the aisles), so she was bound to have to call a tow truck. Were there even tow trucks this late at night?

Amy looked at the watch on her left wrist. 3:41 AM, it read. She sighed and kept drinking her coffee, hoping all those shots of expresso she had ordered would keep her awake.

“Why the long face?” Jake asked, once he left the store, cup in one hand, CD in the other.

“I have a flat tire and no spares.” She replied.

“That sucks.” He sat down next to her.

“It really does.” She agreed. “I have to call the tow truck service, but I don’t know how long it’s going to take for them to arrive.”

“Hey, I can wait with you. We’re both heading to New York, right?” She nodded. “Then when your car gets taken away, I’ll drive you home.”

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you, Jake.”

“Puh-lease.” He waved his hand. “It’s not that much of a hassle. I know where the 8-4 is, anyway, so if your house is near the precinct, I think we’re good.”

“You can just drop me at the precinct, honestly. I’ll have to justify myself to the captain anyway.”

“For what? Being stuck on a random ass gas station in the middle of nowhere?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Jake.”

“Well, all right then. Your choice. I’ll just let you know you’re giving up on the full Jake Peralta hospitality package.” He had finished his coffee at this point.

“How did you finish that so fast?” Amy asked, choosing to ignore his hospitality comment.

“Oh, I can’t feel my tongue anymore.”

She laughed.

* * *

The tow truck arrived two hours later, because the service she called didn’t really have a night watch. This meant Jake and Amy spent a lot of time talking.

At first, they sat outside, talking about some random cases they’d been assigned to. Both learned that they were incredibly proactive detectives, having an extremely high rate of solved cases. Amy bragged about how her paperwork was excellent, which got her a “nerd” from Jake and a brag from his part about how he solved his cases really fast.

After Jake noticed Amy shivering for the third time, he invited her to sit on his car, to get used to his leather seats which she was going to have to sit in anyway. She agreed, making a mental note that he was probably concerned about her wellbeing and not exactly how uncomfortable his car actually was.

Then they moved on to their weirdest cases, then the most badass ones and, finally, the boring ones.

“Did I tell you about that one where that old lady got mugged?” Jake asked, at one point.

“It doesn’t ring a bell.” Amy looked at him, head slightly crooked to one side.

“Well, the lady was mugged… and we caught the thief two miles away from the corner where she had been mugged.”

“Riveting storytelling, Jake.”

“I think I’ve honestly run out of cases to talk about.” He scratched his neck. “That’s a first.”

Quiet followed this, and Amy turned on the stereo for the first time since they had started talking. Static filled the cramped space of the car as she tried to find a station.

“This thing is impossible, honestly.” Jake banged on the radio, startling Amy a bit. “Sorry.”

Miraculously, the radio did star working, and a ballad started playing.

** _…one of the Strokes_ **

** _Now look at the mess you made me make,_ **

** _Hitchhiking with a monogrammed suitcase,_ **

** _Miles away from any half-useful imaginary highway._ **

“This is nice.” Amy said.

Jake nodded and looked at her, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Let’s dance to this.”

“What?”

“Let’s dance to this! It’s a soft ballad, it’s literally perfect to dance to.”

“We’re not dancing.” She shook her head. “I have two left feet, I can barely stand up…”

“Excuses, excuses.” He opened the driver’s door and ran to the other side of the car, opening her door. “Come on.”

“No!” She exclaimed. “I’m not dancing! I’m a disaster, Jake.”

He gasped. “Amy Santiago, did you just admit you’re bad at something?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I know. Now come on.” He grabbed her hand. “It’s dark enough to dance.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She let herself be dragged out of the warmth of the car.

“I don’t see your mistakes, you don’t see mine.”

“Sounds stalkery.”

“That’s not a word.” He corrected her.

She groaned. “I’m tired, okay!”

But she gave in to his demands, placing one hand on his shoulder. He responded by putting his hand on her hip, and then holding on to her spare hand.

“So, just try to follow my lead here.”

Jake stepped forward, and Amy immediately tripped.

“I suck at this.” She mumbled.

“Practice makes perfect, Santiago.”

They kept working on it for a few minutes, and Amy found herself stumbling less and less. The motion was fairly simple – one step back, one step to the right, one step forward, one step to the left, and repeat – and she found that Jake was an excellent guide.

“There you go!” He sounded excited. “You’re doing it, Amy!”

“I’m dancing! Like an actual ballroom dance!”

“Professional dancers are jealous of your talents.”

They laughed and looked at each other. The song was coming to a close, repeating the last few lines over and over.

_ **And as we gaze skyward,** _

_ **Ain’t it dark early?** _

_ **It’s the star treatment.** _

Things suddenly felt a lot more intimate, and Amy found herself staring into his eyes, obfuscated by the dim streetlamps and the sun rising from behind him. He looked like he was leaning closer, and she closed her eyes…

Only for the tow truck to get in the driveway of the gas station, making them jump and split apart.

Jake scratched his neck. “Now you can dance.”

Amy nodded. “Guess so.”

* * *

The drive back to the city was a bit awkward at first, with both parties ignoring what had happened in the parking lot. That air soon cleared, when Jake teased Amy about putting on a beanie.

“It’s cold!” She tried justifying herself.

“I have the car heater on!” He countered.

After that, conversation flowed smoothly. They talked about things they hadn’t talked about yet, like complaining about their captains or colleagues. Jake told her about Rosa, and how terrified everyone was of her, including their Sergeant. Amy told him about Kyle, and its desperate moves on her, to which Jake laughed.

“Hey, I kind of feel bad for the guy. He’s never done anything bad – he respects my boundaries – but I just don’t feel attracted to him. At all.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself, Amy.”

“I know, I know. I just feel like I should.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have to.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks, Jake.”

She repeated those words once he dropped her off at the 8-4, and he gave her a small nod and a wave, followed by a “see you around”.

“Who was that?” A colleague asked.

“A detective from the 9-9.”

“The 9-9?”

She brought her hands to her face. “Don’t get me started.”

* * *

Months passed, and the whole ordeal nearly slipped her mind entirely, when she heard she was going to have to cooperate with a detective in the 9-9 in a case that involved both their precincts. AS luck would have it, that detective as Jake Peralta.

So, she made her way to the 99th precinct, and stepped into the bullpen, only to find someone using a fire extinguisher aggressively on a trash can.

“Peralta!” Captain Holt yelled from the door to his office (she knew who the captain was, due to investigating the precinct after she was assigned to work with it). “Stop this buffoonery and get back to work!”

“Sorry, sir!” Jake yelled, and turned around to snicker with his colleagues only to look at Amy, with her arms crossed.

She walked through the gate, got welcomed (and received an “I’m sorry for Peralta, detective”) by the Sergeant and made her way towards Jake.

“Hey again.” Amy said.

“Hi.” Jake had his hands on his hips.

“Who is this, Jakey?” A man interrupted.

“Oh? Uhm, it’s Amy, Charles.” He looked almost embarrassed. “Remember that time when I drove a detective home and-”

“OH MY GOD!” Charles yelled. “IT’S YOUR SOULMATE?”

Jake buried his face in his hands. “Sorry for him. Every time I mention you, he gets like this.”

“How many times have you mentioned me?” Amy was amused.

“Like, twice?” Jake replied.

“He talks about you all the time.” Charles replied as well.

Jake proceeded to shove him out of the way and bring Amy to the break room.

“So… yeah. Our precinct is a bit chaotic.” He said, as an apology.

“You can say that again.” She didn’t mind the chaos, though. Her precinct was boring, so a change of pace like this was always welcome. Amy was even thinking about requesting to transfer to another precinct, soon.

“Okay, so I’m guessing you’re here to talk about the case?”

“Shouldn’t we talk to the captain first?”

“Holt’s going to drill us for hours, man.”

“It’s the correct procedure, Jake.”

This time, he rolled his eyes. “Fine, Miss Uncool.”

“Hey!” She looked almost mad. “Cool kids make the rules, they don’t break them!”

Jake stared at her with a quizzical look. “Where have I heard that before…?”

Amy ignored him and headed out to the captain’s office, knocking on his door when she arrived. Jake trailed right behind.

Holt briefed them on the case, and the importance of showing that the precincts were united in solving crimes. They were both the best detectives of each precinct, (this made Jake light up, which Amy found a bit odd, but didn’t comment on) and they were to give their best.

After they left the office, Jake showed her to the briefing room, where he had set up a white board with all his evidence of the case, spread chaotically across it. She wanted to go up there and fix it herself but admitted maybe he had a method to her madness.

He explained all that he had managed to observe and conclude and then left Amy to add her information. Jake had left an empty board for her, and she slowly and meticulously (much to Jake’s dismay and impatience) put all her findings in it.

“So,” Jake said, a couple of hours after going through the evidence. “We know that the robbers seemingly attack at random.”

“Do they, though?” Amy questioned. “They seem to do it like that, but people always work in patterns, even subconsciously.”

He looked at the map in front of him, and stood up so quickly that the chair he was on fell. “Do you have a marker?” He motioned for one.

She ransacked her bag and threw him one. He immediately started tracing the dots, and Amy caught up on the logic as soon as he traced between three points.

“It’s an octagon! The robbers are doing an octagon!” Amy exclaimed, and Jake looked at her, slightly confused. “A shape with eight sides Jake, come on. You could get that from context.”

He counted the sides and his eyes widened. “This means that the next robbery is going to be…”

“There!” They both pointed to the same bank at the same time.

Proudly smiling at each other, Jake and Amy looked at the papers spread out the room.

“This might be a record for solving serial bank robberies. Who knew we could solve it in a few hours?”

“Well the pieces of the puzzle were all there.” Amy bushed her fingers on the black ink. “It’s just like solving a crossword.”

Jake rolled his eyes.

“What? Crosswords are fun!”

* * *

Jake and Amy crossed paths the following week at Shaw’s.

“What are you doing here?” He asked her. “This bar is basically a 9-9 exclusive!”

“My squad was around, and we saw some cops going in, so we thought it’d be fun to join!” She clarified.

“Well, since you’re here, come play pool with us!”

She looked around, only to see her squad was already spread around the bar, doing their own thing. Shrugging, she followed him to the table.

One quick thing she realised from the 9-9 was that they were, first and foremost, a family. Rosa was indeed as terrifying as Jake had described her, but she once also thrown a drink at a guy after he was being a bit too clingy for Amy’s taste. Charles was still trying to make Jake and her get together which, with the power of one drink, it took her a while to realise what he was doing. Holt was usually talking to Terry or someone else from the squad, happy to see the shenanigans from afar. Gina just instilled pure chaos, making Amy drink cement one time.

She wouldn’t mind working there, that was for sure.

“So, when are you going to ask Jake out?” Charles asked, again.

Amy stared at him. “This again? Come on, Charles.”

“I know you like him. And I know he likes _you._”

“What makes you so sure?” She tapped on the glass in front of her. “I can’t really afford delusions, Charles.”

“So you _do _like him! God, this is the best day of my life!”

“Charles!” She seethed. “Tone it down, please!” She sighed. “I don’t… I don’t know if I like him. I barely know him.”

“I think you know enough, Amy. Besides,” He looked at Jake, who looked back at the pair and waved. Amy waved back. “You can’t deny there’s something in his eyes when he looks at you.”

Amy sighed again.

Charles comforted her. “All you have to do is talk to him, Amy.”

She looked back in Jake’s direction again, only to see him laughing while throwing some darts. Sure, he was immature, kind of a gigantic dumbass and a bit of a hothead. But he was also kind, never invading her space. And he made her laugh.

She groaned. “I feel like I’m back in high school.”

“Wasn’t that the best time of your life?” Charles asked.

Amy glared at him.

* * *

It was only the next month that they saw each other in person. At that point, they had been texting each other nonstop, so they felt like they should probably meet in person.

Jake was dreading the encounter, since he realised he liked Amy.

Amy was dreading the meet-up, since she realised she liked Jake.

They met up at a Polish place (by Jake’s suggestion, which he knew it was Amy’s favourite) and just talked and talked about their days. Amy revealed to him that she had finally signed the transferal papers and was waiting to know which precinct she was going to move to. Jake was happy for her, since she constantly complained about the boring environment.

After eating everything, they left the café and just walked around the city. The sun was starting to set, the lampposts flickering to life as they meandered through the streets.

They reached a random pier and stopped talking, opting to simply watch the town as it descended into darkness.

“I need to tell you something.” Both said at the same time.

“You first.” Jake said.

“No, please, whatever you have to say is probably more important.” Amy countered.

He took in a deep breath. “Okay. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. I can do this.”

Jake went quiet.

“Are you going to say someth-”

“I like you, okay? Like, romantic-stylez. With a z.”

Amy was left there in shock, interrupted mid-sentence.

“I knew this was a bad idea! You don’t like me and now things are going to be _awkward _and…”

Amy shut him up by pulling him down into a kiss.

When they broke apart, Amy whispered:

“I like you too, dumbass.”

They walked to her place together, hand in hand.

* * *

“My god.” Amy gasped for breath. “That was really good, right?”

“Honest to God might’ve been the best sex I’ve ever had.” Jake replied, with the same breathlessness.

“Damn. That was one hell of an exercise.”

“Title of your sextape.” Jake gasped. “Title of _our _sextape!”

* * *

Years later, sharing that same bed, two identical rings bearing their fingers, they reminisced about the gas station they first met in, and wondered if they’d ever get together if it wasn’t for that first encounter.

“It was like a sign from the Universe.” Jake said, at one point.

She punched his shoulder. “You’re such a hopeless romantic.”

“Tell me you didn’t feel that dance! I have some _moves_, woman!”

Amy laughed, and Jake soon joined her.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you guys enjoyed it! i had a lot of fun writing this
> 
> i listened to the nutcracker suite by tchaikovsky and also... star treatment by arctic monkeys. highly recommend both songs!
> 
> comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


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